Momentum
by TheSecretsSafeWithMe
Summary: Luke and Lorelai: Third Kiss Nostalgia


It was too late to go back to sleep.

This was it. It was starting; it had been starting. It was started. It was the beginning of something that would be spoken nostalgically about for years, or something secretly muttered behind turned backs.

As they left Sniffy's, Lorelai had playfully swung her arm into Luke's, intertwining the two. She leaned into his side and it was the only confirmation he needed. He was pretty sure he could die a happy man. Looking at her again, head thrown back in laughter, he hadn't been sure what she was laughing at but that didn't matter. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her once more, if for nothing more than the return of the weightless feeling he had gotten that night at the Dragonfly.

That night, the first kiss had been testing the waters. Simple and a little hesitant. A man exhausted from his own fantasies, tired of looking at her from the outside. Putting himself in a room of glass, naked and cold, baring his every intention on his skin. He had been so scared of her pulling away, holding her tightly, hands nearly touching elbows, a gentle gesture on her mouth, tensions released. He pulled away, eyes focused on her, shocked and seemingly paralyzed. When she then took his face, pulling it towards her gently, the weightlessness began.

When they parted, there was an unspoken understanding of mutual desires. In a moment of courage, he had pulled her towards him, feeling her unsteady breath on his chin. They were mutually encapsulated in a lustful haze. Of course, a very naked Kirk had ruined the momentum of that moment.

The second attempt at a third kiss had proven to be an awkward one. An uneasy transition: friends to lovers. Never easy, never simple, always awkward. Building up that momentum again proved to be difficult. But as they silently agreed to lean in simultaneously, fate struck again. This time, in the form of a Star's Hollow parade.

And here they were. Leaving from their official first date, arms intertwined, both feeling the weight of expectations as the night drew to a close. And as Luke opened the door for her, and she slid her body against his, his desire rose threefold.

She looked beautiful, and he wanted to tell her so, able to risk sounding like a fool. He wanted to feel her body against his, mouths on mouths. He wanted to lean over, then and there, and pull her to him, and take to the air.

Desire is a funny thing. It can be expressed in large gestures of want, proclamations falling flat on abused ears, advances that feel cheap or overly ambitious. Or, in subtle glances across a seat, fingers tapping lightly on a steering wheel, bodies turned ever so slightly inward. Eyes that wander towards lips or ears or cheekbones.

And as they had approached Star's Hollow, the nervousness crept into Luke's consciousness. A goodnight kiss was all he needed, but desire was a funny thing.

On route to her house, he had felt her hand cutting through the thick-tension filled air, reaching out in a swift, confident motion, resting itself on his thigh. He had tried to bury the grin spreading across his face, unsuccessfully. A fool for his own damn luck.

And as they drove past the diner, a simple squeeze on his leg was all it took for him to park the car. Unspoken intentions floated through the air as they walked wordlessly towards the diner, smiles playing on both of their faces. Was it coffee or something more?

And as he had unlocked the door, and had turned to offer a gesture as small as letting her cross the threshold first, the closeness registered within both of them. She had been giddily following him, nearly knee in knee, she had stood next to him as he fought with the lock, and in his turn, their gazes had met mere inches from each other. And matching smiles turned into hollow breaths and stoic realization, a force much great than momentum. Or a continued momentum that had never died, only been overshadowed. A moment where attraction was undeniable, and desire, unmistakable.

The third kiss had been initiated by neither or both. Arms remained unmoved at sides, but faces and mouths moved closer, as if by chance. Meeting softly at the middle, arms quickly followed. His resting lightly on her shoulder blades, under her arms and up. Hers had moved to both sides of his face, as they tentatively grabbed onto each other's lips. And his hands had expertly moved slowly down her back, pulling every inch of her towards him in sections. In showing no resistance towards his advances, she had approved by simply opening her mouth to him, for him. Sliding her hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

And he stood, trying desperately to believe that she was there, wanting him in the same way he wanted her. As they slowly parted, they stood breathing into each other's mouths, any false intentions forgotten, and impulse taking over. She ran her hands down his arms, and by the forearms, pushed him through the open door.

Completely fallen victim to her spell, he stood weightless and dumb as she closed the door. And as they stepped forward again, it was easier.

Desire is a funny thing. It turns moments of passion, silent. And if you accept it, it overtakes you, as you strip naked of inhibitions and nervous laughter.

As they stood in the diner, bare and warm, their eyes were wide open as they came, falling into their present.

And neither wanted to go back to sleep.


End file.
